Windfall
by emw314
Summary: Story 1 of the Slayer vs Stargate series. Backstory for OC Gwen.
1. Graduation

Disclaimers: Do not own or claim rights to Buffy.

Dialogue from – Season 7, Episode 22 – Chosen

*****

Staring out over the dusty crater, she heard a woman speak.

"Looks like the hellmouth is officially closed for business."

An older man, with a refined British voice replied, "There is another one in Cleveland. Not to spoil the moment," he added, diffidently.

"We saved the world," replied a younger man, American.

She turned to look at them. At him. Dark hair, eye patch, plaid shirt, dark jeans and boots. Tired, but relieved.

She blinked, and the world came back into focus. The crater was gone, replaced by her bedroom, dim in the early daylight. She sighed.

*****

She slid into the chair, energised by her run. She cut some fruit onto her bowl of muesli, and ate quickly, and decided to also have some protein. Eggs should do.

"Just as well you're the only one left at home, kiddo," her father mused. "None of your brothers ever ate as much as you do, and the shortest has got a good ten centimetres and thirty kilos on you."

She scoffed. "And a good three seconds more on his hundred metre sprint."

"And all that," he agreed, grinning. "So have you considered what you're going to do now? It's been nearly eighteen months. I'm sure there's more I could teach you, but you have to get your feet wet at some point."

She continued to eat for a moment, then said, "Cleveland."

He considered that. "I'm thinking you're not meaning Cleveland, Brisbane."

"Hm... No. It's in America. Ohio," she added.

"Cleveland, Ohio. Any particular reason for this?"

She looked at her father for a moment, considering. "Dreams."

"Bad?" There had been some very bad ones, back in the beginning.

"No. Consistent. The same dream every morning for the last week. It's a group that I dream about sometimes, but it seems like it's the end of a period, or sequence. One of them, in particular, is changed. It's permanent, and not there in other dreams. Anyway, it's only a snippet, but they talk about going to Cleveland. I can feel them," she murmured, frowning. "Two of them, the one that speaks first, and another off to the side. They're me, but not me. I feel an echo, a resonance, with them."

Her father sat back. "Guess it's graduation time, then." He smiled. "Time to make some plans."

*****

'Graduation time, my arse,' she decided. She had one month to get from Athens to Paris, by foot, to catch her flight to New York. The rules were: no hiring a vehicle; no catching public transport. She was allowed to take the ferry from Greece to Italy, as well as a couple of other short, planned, trips, but that was it. She was allowed to hitch a ride, if she really wanted to. Oh, and she was travelling as a French national, on a very good fake passport. Dad may have retired, but he hadn't tossed out his contact list, that was for sure.

Her father had served the the Australian SAS, as well as other work she really didn't want to know about, so when she had ... changed ... a year and a half ago, he had decided her explosive new raw talent needed training. Being female, the SAS wasn't open to her, and he wasn't sure he wanted her following in his footsteps, anyway. Then there were the dreams. Fighting, winning, dying. There was a lot of dying, and she hadn't hidden the fact that the dying was often done by girls and very young women. If his baby was going to fight, then he was going to give her the very best opportunity to not die young.

And so he had. Close on eighteen months of hard work, training with her father, training with others. Martial arts, weapons modern and ancient. He had been wary of the older weapons at first, but she had been adamant that it was what she wanted. They had felt so right in her hand, an extension of her body, and besides, knife, stick, sword or axe, body mechanics remained the same, and she had the brute strength to handle any weapon given to her. He had even accepted her insistence on keeping a couple of the practice wooden knives for sentimental reasons. She didn't know why, but they warmed her hand, and she felt a little lost if she didn't have at least one about her.

There had been more to her training than overt fighting techniques. Soon after her change, she had broken her brother's ribs in an overly enthusiastic greeting, so her father had insisted she learn to control her strength. She had formed a technique of bracing her arms, and channelling any extra energy back into herself, subjecting the other person to a warm and strong, but not overly so, hug. All interactions were tempered by the realisation that even her hefty brothers could be hurt too easily by her preternatural strength.

She had also learned to both push herself, and to hide her abilities. They now had a fair idea of her speed and stamina, while also training to limit her exposure to others. One of her father's favourite tricks had been to enter her in a triathlon, and specify what place he wanted her to run. She had to maintain that position, within one place, for the majority of the race, pacing herself to the other contestants. Yeah, he could be a real bastard at times, but he was also a damn good teacher.

Then there was the training she was pretty sure hadn't come from his time in the Army. He had considered not just the changes that had happened, but the person she had been before, and continued to be. Absurdly intelligent, with an eidetic memory, and a talent with languages and mimicry. He had brought in people to teach her how to blend. So she had learned about wigs and hair dyes, cosmetics, costumes, and minor prosthetics. More important than anything external, she had learned about changing her gait, her posture, her expression, projecting a dominant or submissive demeanour, hiding in plain sight.

Which was what she was doing now. Hair dyed a rich, dark brown, matching contacts masking blue eyes, she was hiking through Europe in the mid Autumn. Damn Northern Hemisphere seasons! She had left the southern Queensland Spring, already spiking into Summer-like heat, for the chill of Europe, already at Autumn temperatures when she had arrived in Athens in mid-October, and would drop eventually towards what she knew as Winter temperatures by the time she made Paris sometime early-to-mid November.

She hadn't seen snow, yet, and knew she wouldn't this time round, but she would need to find shelter each evening, to avoid exposure to the elements. She had money on her, and access to more, but not much. She had to plan, budget, and get by. And she had to keep moving. Apart from the permitted ferry and train rides, she had to cover about fifty kilometres a day to make the trip in time, and she would rather move quicker, over fewer, longer days, so that she could hole up in Paris for a while before flying out. Apart from solidifying her character, it would allow her to soak in the personality of the people and the place. Hopefully, but the time she got to America, she would be unmistakeably French, Parisian even.

She paced along the road, and allowed a small part of her mind to drift to busy streets and small cafes, strong coffee and rich peasant food. The sun had set some hours ago, and people were out and about, though not so many in this part of town. Movement caught her eye, and she turned her head to see what was happening. A woman was being dragged, unconscious, into a warehouse some distance away. She raced to the building, and quickly climbed up to a safer vantage point. What she saw inside the building sickened and terrified her. The woman lay sprawled between four people. The two at her neck had her head pulled up and back, while the other two had their heads bowed to the woman's inner thighs. She realised, horrified, that the … men … had opened major blood vessels, and were feeding from her. The woman had to be already dead – arterial injuries killed very quickly, Gwen knew. There was no saving the woman below her, but there might be a form of salvation for tomorrow night's victim.

*****

"Hey, Faith. What's up?"

"Oh, hey, Xan. Do you know where Red is?"

"Out at the moment. There anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah, probably. It's probably not even something Glinda would consider work. I just want to look up something that may or may not have happened in Italy."

Xander tilted his head at the slayer. "Can I say 'huh'?"

Faith sighed. "I had a dream last night, and it really seemed like a slayer dream. If I'm right, then someone torched a warehouse in … pressure, thresher … something like that. It's in northern Italy. Thing was, there were vamps there, and she, whoever, used Molotov cocktails to light it up. I saw it all, nice work, very neat. I just wanted to check if it actually went down the way the dream said. It felt like, I don't know, real-time."

"Like it happened as you were dreaming about it?"

"Yeah. Or maybe she was just really feeling hyped. I don't know. Do you know of anyone taking out a warehouse like that?"

He thought about it. "I haven't heard of anything like that. If it was a nest, we now send in teams, three to six slayers, with back-up. You know the routine."

"Well, she felt alone. Cautious, though. It felt like daylight, and she lobbed them in from a window up high."

Xander nodded approvingly. "Smart girl. Okay, we'll look for a warehouse fire in northern Italy. Let's hope it isn't arson season," he added with a wry grin.

*****

She hunched into her coat as she trudged along the roadside. Two hours after dusk, and she was still walking. She made a promise to herself to stop at the next town and find dinner and a place for the night. It was getting cold for a sub-tropical girl like her. But she had wanted to put as much distance between herself and the burned warehouse as possible, thus her still out in the cold darkness.

She didn't even notice the car until it stopped in front of her, and the man get out. He called out something, but she didn't catch it at first. He repeated his offer of a ride, and, tired and cold, she decided to take him up on the offer. She was pretty certain her father would not approve, but she knew that a man would have a very difficult time subduing her, even tired as she was.

She relaxed in the seat, and told Carlos, the driver, that she was headed for Paris. He grinned, and said that he was heading to Geneva, so he could take her that far. She thanked him, and closed her eyes.

*****

She had thought he would have at least attempted to get her out of the car before doing anything. Instead, he had pulled over at a rest stop, and simply leaned over to feed. Even after witnessing the vampires kill the other woman, she was still more surprised that her assailant went that way, rather than a more mundane attack. Still, she had been waiting for something to happen, and retaliated. Unfortunately, she wasn't ready for a vampire, so simply reacted by twisting his neck. It broke with a satisfying crack, but then left her with a new problem. Being already dead, this wasn't enough to dispatch the demon, so it lay against her, swearing, promising retribution when his neck healed, and trying to bite her.

She stared at the body for a moment, before forcing herself to move. Looking around, she noticed that the rest area was empty, so she dragged the injured vamp out onto the ground. Thinking quickly, she stripped him of anything that might be valuable, including the nice leather jacket he was wearing. Then she thought again about killing vampires. She knew that fire worked – witness Brescia – but she didn't have anything handy for that. The stories always insisted that the other ways to kill a vampire were a stake to the heart, sunlight, or decapitation. It was night time, so sunlight was out, and he was already starting to move his body, so the only way she was leaving him to get a piece of wood was if she broke his neck again. So she pulled the hunting knife from its sheath at the back of her belt, tilted his head up, and smoothly removed the vampire's head. And promptly dropped about a foot onto the parking area surface when the chest she had been sitting on disintegrated underneath her. She rose, rubbing her butt, collected her takings, and returned to the car. She smiled. No more walking for her, and Paris was now only a matter of a couple of days away.

*****

"Okay, got it," Xander announced.

"Cool. Show me," Faith demanded.

"Here," he said, turning the screen a little. "And it was Brescia. Sounded close, didn't it. Uh, there's a problem though. There were casualties. Didn't you say it was vamps?"

"Yeah. In the dream I saw them light up and dust. There were definitely two that went poof."

"Huh. The bodies could have been leftovers. Lots of vamps don't bother with the housekeeping. But I would need Will to check on that. If the bodies were old enough, that should show on any autopsies, but I can't get into any secure databases. Not my thing."

"Let's bring her in, then."

*****

She cruised into Paris, and found a backpackers hostel. The money the vamp had on him supplemented her own funds, and bought a clean room that she didn't have to share. Tomorrow she planned to find an apartment for a month so that she could have somewhere nicer to stay until she took her flight out. Then she might do some shopping. If she wanted to present herself as French, then she should have some local clothes. Nothing fancy, but definitely locally purchased.

*****

"Okay, I had a look at the coroner's report, or what translates as the coroner's report over there. Yes, there were several bodies, but the freshest was still dead when the warehouse burned down. Possibly dead some hours, too. So whoever did this didn't kill anyone. They were already dead. Does that sound right?" Willow asked.

"Sounds good for our slayer," Faith commented.

"Are you sure this is a slayer, Faith," Willow asked, concerned. "'Cause I checked, and we don't have anyone in the area. I even did a spell-check on all the slayers, and the only ones we have in Western Europe are in Holland at the moment. I called the watcher, and she said they've been there for at least six months."

"It was a slayer dream, and it felt like a slayer. I think this is a slayer."

"Could it be someone we haven't found yet?" Xander asked.

"No. Even the ones we haven't been able to hook up with yet, we still know pretty much where they are. You know, within like fifty miles. And there definitely wasn't anyone in Northern Italy in the last like six weeks."

"Can we at least go have a look? I have a feeling about this. It's a slayer, I'm sure of it."

Willow and Xander exchanged looks. "It's not like it's apocalypse season," he reasoned.

"Oh, and shopping," Willow added, grinning.

"Just the three of us?" Faith suggested.

Xander tilted his head. "Any particular reason?"

Faith shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that... It was my slayer dream, and … I don't know... I feel connected with this. I just want to be the slayer that hooks up with her."

"And, besides," Willow added slyly, "Italian leather!"

Xander rolled his eyes.

*****

Gwen wandered the streets. She was prepared this time. Her hunting knife was in its sheath at her back, while her wooden knives were in her pants pockets. She also had one slipped up her sleeve, poking down enough for her to quickly pull it out. She sauntered along the streets, wandering aimlessly, hoping to attract attention.

Instead, she came across someone else's hunt. Something caught her eye down an alley, a young man trying to fend of several attackers. One notable characteristic about the attackers was the way their faces looked. It was just the way the vampires of Brescia looked, the way her driver had looked as he leaned over her. She flew into the alley and grabbed the one holding the young man down, and flung him against the opposite wall as she pulled her wooden knife from her sleeve. She then turned to the vampire leaning into the man, about to bite. She grabbed him by his hair and stabbed him with the knife. Withdrawing quickly, she turned to the vampire picking himself up from where she had flung him. Two quick steps, and she was there. She lifted him with one hand around the neck, and dispatched him, also, with a quick thrust to the heart. By this time, the third vampire had reached her, and clamped his hand down on her shoulder. In on smooth move, she flung her arm over his, twisted her hand around his upper arm, and brought it down, bringing the vamp to his knees. As he fell, she pivoted, and brought her opposite knee up and connected solidly with his chin, snapping his head back. She then released the vamp, letting him fall to the ground before securing him with a boot to the neck.

She paused for a moment, and thought. Simply killing the vamps was good, but could she be more effective? She was without much in the way of external resources, while these creatures might be a way to support herself. A form of living off the land. Making her decision, she reached down and snapped the vampire's neck. Working quickly, she removed his wallet and identification, and quickly searched him for other valuables. Discarding anything too easily identifiable, she set aside a pile of valuables, then deftly staked the vampire. She looked around. The victim was long gone, and there were no other witnesses, so she pocketed her loot and headed back to her room.

She smiled. Despite all the love her family could give her, all the training her father to bring, this was what felt right. Things hadn't felt this right in a long time.


	2. The Chase

Disclaimer: Do not own or claim rights to Buffy.

A/N: //speech// – speech in another language

*****

"Faith, we have to face facts," Xander decided. "It's been nearly a week, and the trail is cold. There is no slayer here in Brescia. If there was one here a week ago, she's long gone. If she's on her own, then she probably didn't want to stick around for the arson charges."

"The thing is," Willow added, "there's not enough of a signature for me to track her. As far as your dream could tell, she jumped straight up to the window sill, and that sill is now burnt, and in the rubble somewhere. I can't find her for you."

"Yeah, no, I get it," Faith sighed. "We have to move on. Maybe, if the PTB's are so interested in my finding her, they'll give me a new dream. Or something." After a moment, Faith perked up. "So who's up for shopping in Milan?"

Xander slumped back. "Please, God, no!"

*****

She felt like she was flying, sailing through the air like some over-the-top Hong Kong kung fu movie. Every move was fluid, and she didn't have to pull any of her strikes. This was the most fun she'd had in a long time. She was almost laughing. Of course, it would have helped if she wasn't actually fighting things that could just as easily kill her as she killed them. That was enough to still her laughter. Still, it was fun.

And then they were gone. Those that remained … undead … had run off, while she was surrounded by piles of dust. Covered with the stuff, too. Not so fun. Ah, well, 'such is life,' as the man said.* She dusted herself off, the walked out of the alley. Considering her options, she decided it was time to go home. She could have more fun tomorrow.

*****

"Paris," Faith muttered suddenly.

"No, I don't think we'd be able to get away with that," Willow contradicted.

"Thanks be to all merciful gods and goddesses," murmured Xander.

"What?" the brunette asked, frowning.

"We can't go to Paris. It's going to be enough that we went to Milan instead of going straight home," Willow explained.

"Uh, no. No, I wasn't talking about shopping. I think she's gone to Paris."

Xander tilted his head in thought. "And this would be because...?"

"I don't know. I just think she's gone to Paris."

Willow and Xander exchanged glances, then shrugged. "Okay," Xander conceded with a sigh. "Paris it is."

*****

She let the club fill her senses: the pounding beat, the writhing bodies, the lights, the air, the scents that lay heavy about her. Making a space, she began to sway, letting the music move her as she danced, alone. No one would bother her, not for long. Some would approach, but her cool stare would chase them off. When she deigned to notice them, that is. She was cold, and she was alone, and that's how she liked to be. She was close to her family, but they weren't here. She appreciated her teachers, but was not close to any of them. She slipped through life like she slipped through the crowd, untouched and alone. Unconnected.

Something seemed to crawl over her skin, and she smiled. Drifting through the crowd, she manoeuvred herself closer to the source of the sensation. Finally she was there, in front of the creature that grated on her skin like a rasp. She wound her arms around the creature's neck, and moved closer, swaying, hypnotic. After a few songs, the creature murmured in her ear, and nodded to the exit. Keeping an arm around its shoulders, she went outside with it. Smiling, it drew her into a nearby alley, and began to kiss her neck. She wove her fingers into its hair, and then twisted sharply, breaking its neck, before letting it fall. She frisked it quickly and efficiently, then plunged her oaken knife into its heart, ending its time in the human world.

After dusting herself off, she pocketed her findings, and returned to the club. It wasn't her preferred style of music, but there was a beat that she could lose herself in.

*****

"So," Xander began, "once we get to Paris, do you have any idea of how we're going to find her? Or you just hoping to get another of those … feelings?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Well, I was thinking of hitting some demon bars, see if anyone had any news."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, okay. I could have thought of that. I just thought you were going to go all mystical Slayer-type person on us. You know, like back in Milan. Or maybe have another dream. I could do the hit-the-bar research kind of stuff. Nothing special there."

"May be ordinary, but it still works," the slayer countered, smiling.

"This is true."

*****

She grimaced as she swiped at her pants. She'd been lying under one of the vamps when it had dusted, and she wasn't impressed with the results. Now she had dust in her clothes, in her hair, and over her skin. She desperately needed a shower to clean up.

Something caught her ear, and she looked sharply in the direction of the noise. Towards the back of the alley, she could see another human-shaped being. She tilted her head. The being didn't feel human, but at the same time, she didn't feel any sense of threat coming from it. It stood, hunched in the corner, as if trying to hide.

She approached the being carefully, trying to get a better look, but the shadows were too dense. "//What are you?//" she enquired.

"//Name's Andre,//" it replied.

"//I asked what you were, not who. You are not human. Neither are you a vampire. I ask again: what are you?//"

"//I'm a Brachen.//"

"//Do you seek to feed from or kill humans?//"

"//No! We are a peaceful people.//" Andre stepped out into the light, and she could see his face was covered with spines. "//We just want to live in peace, Slayer,//" he added, softly.

"//If all you want is peace, then peace you shall have. I don't concern myself with the peaceful.//"

"//So I can tell the others? That you'll stay away from the quiet ones?//"

"//If you wish. You can also mention to those wanting a fight that I'm more than up for it,//" she added with a fierce smile.

Andre cleared his throat. "//As you wish, Slayer.//" With that, he nodded, and slipped back into the shadows.

'Slayer,' she mused with a wry smile. 'I have a title."

*****

"Paris," Willow grinned. "City of Lights. It's so romantic."

Faith and Xander glanced at one another, and then at their friend. "Okay," Xander decided, "just so long as you're not about to try to get romantic with either of us."

Willow rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying. I always wanted to come here, but never managed it before. Tara would have loved it," she whispered.

Xander laid his arm around her shoulder, while Faith stroked her hair. She was glad to be here with her friends. It was a lovely place, and if she couldn't have her love here, she could still be here with those that cared.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. "So, does anyone have any contacts that can drum up? If we're going to hit some demon bars, we need to know where said demon bars are."

Xander looked at Faith, who looked back with wide eyes. "Er... I thought you knew where they were, Xan."

"Ah, that would be a no. I'm not the one who spent oodles of time in Europe over the last eighteen-or-so months."

Willow sighed. "No, that would be Buffy. Who we're not actually letting know we're over here looking for a stray slayer. Who we therefore can't ask about demon bars in Paris."

"What about Dawnie?" Faith suggested.

"Dawnie," Xander asked, eyebrows raised. "Little Miss Not-Legal-For-Two-Years Dawnie? How is it she would know about demon bars?"

"Um, this is France," Willow reminded him. "The legal age for purchasing alcohol is eighteen. They don't actually have a legal age for drinking it, though you might have a problem getting into a club below that time. I don't know. So Dawnie knowing about bars in Paris, not really a problem."

"Huh. So it's twenty-one in the States because …?"

"Who knows," Faith dismissed. "The Moral Majority doesn't think the kiddies can handle the big bad booze, I guess."

"Yeah, 'cause the adults do so well on it," he added sourly.

"So," Willow began, trying to get the conversation back on track, "do we ask Dawn for a list of clubs and bars, or do we just, I don't know, look for them?"

Faith smiled. "We could just try looking. If we don't find anything suitable in, I don't know, a week, we could try asking Little D then."

"Oh, gee, spending a week searching for demon bars. How will we ever cope?" Xander asked, grinning.

Willow just rolled her eyes. Well, they did need a holiday, didn't they?

*****

She was sitting at a table, looking out over the dancers, nursing her drink. She was considering going out onto the dance floor, but wasn't feeling it at the moment. For now she just wanted to watch.

She had felt something enter the bar earlier, but there wasn't the usual itchy crawling sensation of vampires, so she was just waiting to see if something came up. Various men had approached, but had wandered off before getting too close. She had a cool, approach-me-not presence that discouraged most people.

Xander had watched her for some minutes. He had seen two men wander up, only to veer off at the last moment, but he couldn't figure out why. She was alone, and very lovely, at least from where he was sitting. She appeared to be relaxed, and wasn't displaying any weapons that he could see. Finally, curiosity overcame him.

"Hi there," he began when he reached the table. "My name is Xander, and I sure hope you can speak English, because I would hate to have to inflict my French on you."

She blinked, surprised that he had actually made it to her table. "I am sorry? I was not paying attention."

Xander smiled. Her English skills were excellent, apparently, and the accent was damn sexy. He held out his hand. "My name's Xander, and I am so glad you speak English."

"Oh, yes. My father insisted," she replied as she shook his hand. "And my name is Guinevere."

"Damn. Now I wish my name was Lancelot!"

She laughed at that. "I do not think I have ever had anyone say that to me. You are most unusual."

"Yeah, I get that all the time. Although the word people usually use is 'weird' or 'strange' or something even less complimentary."

"But why? You seem like a very nice man."

"You'd think, wouldn't you. And I am. A very nice man, that is. I can cook and clean, and look after myself. I have been well and truly trained out of my less savoury habits, I swear," he assured her.

She laughed again. "House trained, I daresay."

"Oh, yeah. The girls have got me damn well trained."

"Girls?" she enquired, eyebrow raised.

"Friends. Friends who happen to be female, and very scary, and not at all girl-friend-like," he explained, wide-eyed.

"Oh?" she asked, reaching to flick a curl back over his ear. "You do not take female lovers?"

"Oh gods," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. After a moment, he looked up at her. "It's like this. I have a lot of female friends. I used to be engaged, but she died," a quick look of deep sorrow flickered across his face, "and there is no one now, but if there was, it would be female. Uh, was that clear enough for you?"

She smiled. "But yes, Xander. That was clear enough. But may I ask? Why is there no one now?"

Xander shrugged. "We've been very busy over the last... Hell, it's been so long. I can't remember not being busy. Anya was someone I sort of worked with, or met through what I did, and … We got together, then fell in love, then got engaged, then I left her at the altar, then we parted, then we were working together again, and we were on our way to being together again, and then ..." He shook his head. "And now we're so busy, and there's no one around me that I could get involved in, and no time to find someone else, so... So here I am, in Paris, on business, if you would believe, and talking to a random stranger. Hello, random stranger," he finished, raising his drink.

"Bonsoir, mon ami," she replied, raising her drink.

"Er, 'ami' – that means friend, doesn't it?"

"Yes, 'ami' means friend. 'Amour' means love."

"Oh, that's great. Not that I'm saying that we couldn't be something, you know, with time, and getting to know one another, and all that. It's just..."

"You have had bad experiences?"

"My friends did try to hook me up a couple of times. I told them to stop after the last one was naming our children before I'd even had dessert. I swear, that was the first time in my life that I've run out before dessert!"

She laughed. He was becoming entranced with her laughter. It was a little like Faith's, in that it was hearty, but Guinevere seemed to lack Faith's inherent sexiness. "So what about you? Are there any dating disasters hiding in your cupboard?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised. "No. I have not actually been on any dates. I have been training for the family business full-time, plus my father is not a man that delights in his youngest daughter learning about the opposite gender," she added, wrinkling her nose. "And he is very intimidating. The few males that I could meet outside of my girls school would run away at the sight of my father and my brothers. They are very big men."

"Uh huh," he murmured, looking around. "So are they here, by any chance?"

"No, no. None of them are even in Paris at the moment. I am free! For a few more days, at least. I fly out to meet Papa tomorrow, and then I am once again under the paternal wing. But tonight I am free."

"And here's to freedom," he saluted.

She stared at him for a moment. "It is strange. You are strange," she murmured.

"I'm going to go with 'huh?'"

"I am an introvert. This I know. I do not connect well with people, and do not like having to … share with many people. Giving a speech, this is nothing to me. It takes little energy for me to do this. Singing in public, even, gives me little worry. But talking intimately with a stranger, this is not something I often do. Small talk has never been easy for me. But you? I feel like I have known you for years, and could talk to you for hours. Why is this?"

"I'm just a friendly guy?"

"Hm. Maybe." She reached out again to tuck the errant lock back behind his ear. "I like you."

"I like you, too."

*****

Willow tugged on Faith's arm. "Look. Over at the tables."

Faith turned to look over at the tables at the edge of the dance floor. She could see Xander talking to a woman. As she watched, the woman reached out to touch his face, and he smiled. She raised an eyebrow. "Seems like the Xan-man's found a little friend."

Willow grinned back. "Seems like."

*****

When Willow and Faith finally left the dance floor, they were disappointed to find their friend sitting alone at the table. "Where is she?" Willow cried out.

Xander frowned and tilted his head. "Who?"

"The woman you were talking with earlier, X. It looked like you getting along quite well."

"Oh, Guinevere. Yeah, she had to go. And she's flying out tomorrow, anyway."

"Tomorrow ain't tonight, stud," Faith replied.

"And I'm not in the mood for one night stands, okay? Besides, she's flying to the States, and I gave her my number," he added, blushing faintly.

Faith and Willow grinned. "The Xan-man strikes again," Faith crowed as she high-fived Willow.

Xander just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

*****

It took three days to finally find a demon bar, but when they did they learned that the slayer they were hunting had left the city. No one had any idea where she had gone, but they were able to confirm that she was a slayer, and that she was more than willing to leave the peaceful tribes alone.

"Back to the beginning," Xander moaned.

"I hate to say this, guys, but we need to get home. We've been out long enough looking for her, and until we get something more concrete, we're going to have to leave it. I don't know why I can't track her magically, but I can't. I can't even prove to Giles that this is a slayer that we're after. All we have are Faith's dreams and feelings, and that's neither quantifiable nor verifiable. Sorry, Faith," she added, touching the other woman's arm.

"That's okay. If it were anyone else, I would probably say they were just working to get a slick European holiday with shopping, which, have to say, we pretty much did get."

"Definitely the shopping," Xander sighed.

"And the hotty," Faith reminded, nudging him with her elbow.

Xander blushed again. "We were just talking," he muttered.

"Mm hm," Willow agreed. "Talking, and exchanging phone numbers. Anything else we should know?"

"No. And if there were anything else, you definitely shouldn't know."

"But I wanna," Faith pouted.

"Ye gods! No! There is no way I am discussing my sex life with either of you. Or anyone else, for that matter," he added, forestalling their machinations. "Anyway, we have to go home, now. Maybe Faith will get another lead, but till then? Home."

*Final words by Ned Kelly, at execution


	3. Approaching Home

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to BtVS

A/N: ~text~ mental communication

//text// language other than English

* * *

And here they were. Cleveland, Ohio. The new Hellmouth. She could feel it, sliding over her skin, a sensation not unlike the presence of a vampire. It was like smoke in the air, or a sour taste in her mouth. And it was, very likely, home.

Gwen left her room and headed off to meet her father. It was time to find out more about the Slayers.

* * *

"So where are we going now?"

"I'm feeling drawn that way," she began, nodding to the East, "but I don't want to go that way just yet. I want to start out at some specialised shops."

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to go shopping?"

"Not shopping, recon. Let's start..." she considered as she looked around, "there." Across the road was a small shop named 'The Magic Box'. It was a long shot – surely there were plenty of shops with that name, or something like that, but she remembered the original Magic Box from some of her dreams, and went with the nostalgic feelings the almost-memories brought.

She made her way across the street, and entered the shop, her father closely following. He frowned at the scents and sights of the shop, and moved over to where the mystical-ish objects had been placed. Gwen looked to the sales counter and noticed the girl standing there.

"Hi, my name's Dawn. Welcome to the Magic Box," the other girl greeted. "Is there anything in particular you were after?"

"No. Just looking around," Gwen murmured as she drifted over to the books.

"Okay. Let me know if you want any help."

Gwen nodded absently. From where she stood, she could keep an eye on both the back of the shop and the centre part where Dawn was sitting at the counter. With her father in the front of the shop, she was more inclined to keep only an ear out, trusting him to look after that area.

Soon after they had entered the shop, the door jangled again, and Faith carried a bag to Dawn. "Hey, Little D. Big sis asked me to bring some lunch down, since you ran out without it this morning."

"Oh great. I was getting a bit peckish," she grinned.

Faith frowned, and quickly looked around the fairly empty shop. As well as she knew the younger woman, she knew something was off. She turned back to Dawn and raised an eye. ~What's up?~ she thought at Dawn.

~The girl at the books. There's something strange about her, but I can't think what. Can you go check her out? What do you pick up on your Slay-dar?~

Faith looked at the stranger, and wrinkled her nose. ~She pings, but really faint. I can't make out what she might be.~

~Can you check her out? I've already called Willow down, but I'd like you to take a closer look.~

~No probs,~ the slayer decided as she wandered over.

"Hey there," Faith began, voice set to 'sultry'. "Name's Faith. What's a hottie like you doing in here?"

The strange brunette gave Faith a long look before replying. "Gloria. And sorry – don't swing that way," she apologised gently.

The slayer shrugged. "Worth a shot. So what are you looking at?" She tilted her head and squinted. "Squiggle writing?"

Gwen chuckled. "Greek. I'm doing some self-directed study. Ancient languages. Anyway, I was told that, for some reason, Cleveland has some interesting texts in the older languages. Mythologies, grimoires, that sort of thing. Not so much into the grimoires, but there are some decent texts here." The door jangled again, and Gwen glanced over reflexively. A petite red-haired woman and tall dark-haired man entered. "Damn," she murmured. "Gay and/or taken, right?"

"Neither. And not really looking, either. Long story."

"Pity." She turned back to Faith. "You don't really look the type," she prompted.

"Type?"

"This kind of place."

"Nah. I work with Dawnie's sister, and just brought in some lunch. Saw you and decided to stay."

Gwen/Gloria nodded, and turned back to the books. Faith looked over to the counter where Willow and Xander were finishing up their conversation with Dawn. When she saw them turn to come over to where she was standing, she shifted to allow them space near this newcomer.

"Hey, Faith," Willow said, smiling. "Do you want to introduce us to your new friend?"

Gwen urgently stomped down on a sudden surge of nerves. She could get out of here, so long as she kept her cool. She smiled absently at the newcomers, only raising her eyebrows slightly at Xander's gasp.

"Guinevere?" he asked as he reached forward.

She frowned slightly. "Gloria. Ortiz," she added after a moment.

Faith and Willow looked at their friend, concerned, but he stepped back and shook his head. "Sorry," he offered with a slight smile. "You just look unbelievably like someone I just met. But she's French. You're ..."

"I'm from Miami, but my family is from Cuba. So, the accent," she shrugged.

Taking advantage of the slight lull in conversation, Willow stuck out her hand and smiled. "I'm Willow."

Seeing no way around it, Gwen/Gloria shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"So," Willow went on, "you're into Wicca?"

"No. As I was saying to Faith, I am studying ancient languages. Just by myself at the moment. I have to consider if I even want to go to College for further study, and, if so, which College to apply to. Maybe you have some recommendations?"

* * *

Michael Dillon wandered out of the trinket-y section of the store to see where his daughter had gotten to. He frowned slightly when he saw her trapped in the books section by three strangers, all standing a little too close.

"Gloria," he called out, tapping his watch. As he looked on, she made her excuses, and walked up to him.

"//Lunch time already, Papa?//"

"//No, but we have things to do,//" he explained as he escorted her from the store.

* * *

Dawn quickly skirted the counter and made her way to her friends. "Well?"

Xander shook his head, obviously upset. "I could have sworn that was Guinevere. Everything except the accent was right. Oh, and the way she just looked right though me," he added with a bitter laugh.

"The girl from Paris," Faith confirmed.

Xander nodded.

"So what did you get, Willow," Dawn asked.

"I don't know. It's almost like she wasn't even there. I mean, I touched her and everything, but any time I tried to read her, she just … I don't know, slipped away, wasn't there ..."

"What could that be?" Xander wanted to know.

"Don't know. Faith, what did you get."

Faith shook her head. "Like I told D here, she pinged on my slay-dar, but really faintly. Even right up close I couldn't get much. Could she be, I don't know, cloaked?"

"I suppose, but it would take a lot to cloak someone like that. And why?"

"To hide a slayer," Xander suggested.

"Shit!" Faith muttered. "She was in Paris at the right time, wasn't she. And we lost the slayer about the same time she flew out."

"Ah... What's this about a slayer?" Dawn asked.

The others had the grace to look embarrassed and a little ashamed. "We were tracking a possible slayer," Willow explained. "Except she wasn't showing up on any scans we did. The only way we knew about her was because Faith had a slayer dream about her, and then we tracked her activities."

"What we do know is that she's smart and effective," Xander went on. "Well trained, but we don't know who trained her, nor where she comes from. She just turned up in Italy a few weeks ago, and moved straight on to Paris for a couple of weeks."

"Italy and Paris. Well, at least the girl has style," Dawn mused. When the others looked at her, she just shrugged.

"Cloaked and trained," Faith considered. "Do you think someone could have grabbed her when she was first activated, and, I don't know, done something?"

"Shit! Some government thing? Can you imagine them getting their hands on a baby slayer? They could make her into some kind of uber assassin," Xander fretted.

"And you're thinking Guinevere could be Gloria?" Dawn suggested. "You know, just change the accent, new IDs and stuff."

"We wouldn't even notice her if she walked in the front door. She didn't set off the store's wards, did she?" Willow asked.

"No. Normal human as far as the front door was concerned. It's just that something felt off to me."

"We need to find her," Faith decided. "You can't trace Gloria, can you, Willow?" When the redhead shook her head, Faith went on, "What about the guy that was with her? What if he handled something up the front. Could you find him from that?"

"It's possible. Dawnie, we have cameras set up for that section of the store, don't we?"

"Sure do," the younger woman replied, grinning. Not wanting to be disturbed, she quickly flicked the 'closed' sign over and locked the door, before returning to the office to check the tapes. Within minutes, she was able to identify which items the man had held the longest, and Willow set up a tracking spell. Assuring Willow and Dawn that they had their cells on, Faith and Xander left the store.

* * *

"You want to fill me in?" Michael asked his daughter.

"I may have slightly kind of had a bit of trouble."

"As in?

"I spoke to the guy in Paris. I swear he was the only person I had any real contact with on the whole trip. Last night of the whole thing, sitting in a club, everyone else avoiding me, and he comes straight up and wants to talk. I know I could have cut it off, but..."

"Did you know who he was in Paris?"

Gwen took a breath. "I've seen him in dreams. So, yeah, I knew him. But I think I managed to get past him this time. It seemed like he believed me."

"Which doesn't make you happy."

Damn. Her father was just too observant. "I liked him. In the dreams he always seemed like, I don't know, a knight in shining armour. It was odd to have dreams about him, considering all the other dreams were about girls. He really stood out. Actually," she added, frowning, "I've had dreams about all of the people in that shop. Dawn, the girl at the counter, was in the dream where the little blonde did the swan dive off a gantry, and the brunette has had a few dreams of her own. Ah, shit!" she swore. "I think the redhead is a witch."

"A witch," her father repeated calmly.

"Dad, I've dreamt about vampires, demons, and werewolves. There's not going to be witches?"

"So how do you know she's a witch?"

"It's that, or she's a Sith lord. She was doing the Force lightning thing on the guy, Xander. He was telling her that he loved her, um, something about a yellow crayon, and he earned the right to be there when she ended the world."

"Ended the world," he repeated, a calm, fact-finding, not freaking out tone. It was one thing to find out your daughter had been mysteriously empowered to fight vampires, and wasn't that a fun thought, but now there were world-ending witches?

"From what I can figure, she's reformed. What with the world not ending, and all. And they seemed friendly."

"It wasn't a prophetic dream?"

"No. It very definitely felt … past tense."

"Fine. So how do we work this?"

"Kind of hoping you had an idea there, Secret Agent Dad."

* * *

"There they are," Xander murmured. "How are we going to do this?"

"We try to talk to them first."

"And if the shit hits the fan?

"You take the guy, I'll take the girl."

"You sure about that?"

"Come on, Xan. We're pretty sure she's a slayer, and we're thinking she has some kind of Commando training. You seriously want to take that on?"

"And if he's her trainer/handler?"

"You train with slayers and fight vampires. He may have training, but so do you, and I don't think he's trained to fight the things you are."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Gwen hissed suddenly. "We have company."

"How do you know?"

"The other girl like me. The brunette at the shop. I felt something when she was near, and it's getting stronger again."

"She's not likely to be alone. Okay, we stay out in public view. Make it hard for them. If all else fails, you get clear. Make the rendezvous."

"Make sure you do, too."

* * *

Xander and Faith caught up with the father and daughter, and Xander slipped past before turning around to face them. Hands out, he started speaking quickly. "We just want to talk. Do you think we can do that in some kind of civilised manner?"

Faith watched as the man and woman split apart, and turned ensure that neither of them showed her their back. The man focused more on Xander, while the woman calmly stared at Faith. They were both relaxed, with their hands loose at their sides. She smiled slightly. Both were ready for a fight, but not starting anything just yet.

"Talking's possible," Michael allowed. "Somewhere public."

"There's a park just around the corner," Xander suggested. "That public enough for you?"

Michael nodded, and the four made their carefully relaxed way to the park. Once there, they found an open but quiet spot. "So you wanted to talk," he suggested, allowing his gaze to wander.

Xander turned to Gwen. "You're Guinevere. You're the slayer we were chasing in Brescia and Paris, aren't you?"

Gwen fell still. "Yes. And no. That's not my real name. Neither is Gloria."

Faith watched has the other slayer's handler tensed. "Your accent changed again," she challenged.

"This is my natural accent," she offered.

"Can't pick it."

"It's … odd." Faith could hear the smile in the other woman's voice. "I haven't found anyone who can pick it. That's just the way it is."

"So why can't we track you? You're a slayer. All slayers have a … presence, but your's is masked. Why is that?" Faith wanted to know.

"Like you? I felt you approaching. It's different to vampires, different to this place. Is that what you mean?"

"That would be it. But you? You're barely there. Even a day old slayer sparks up way more than you."

"Absolutely no idea. As far as I am aware, I have had no involvement in magic or anything like that. My family is utterly mundane."

"Who trained you?" Xander asked.

Gwen gave a slight smile. "Like I said in Paris, family business."

"Your family is into covert operations?"

"As it happens."

"When were you activated?"

"May, 2003."

Faith and Xander exchanged looks. "One of the first. So, what, you've been training ever since?"

"There was lots to learn," Gwen answered, shrugging.

"So what's your real name?"

"Gwen."


	4. Revelation

Disclaimer: do not own or claim rights to BtVS

* * *

"Thought you said you weren't Guinevere," Faith commented.

"I'm not. That's a French name. But it's very similar to my real name, so I use it." She looked around before going on. "Are you satisfied," she asked her companion. "Can we go somewhere private now?"

He shrugged. "Things need to be said. Things I'd rather weren't shouted from the rooftops," he added, grinning wryly. He turned to Xander and held out his hand. "Name's Michael Dillon."

"Xander Harris," he said as they shook hands.

"So where are we going?"

"How about back to 'The Magic Box'? We have a good sized back room where we can have some privacy, and also check things out," Xander suggested.

Michael looked at his daughter, who nodded. "Okay, then."

* * *

When the Americans had referred to a back room, Michael had thought they were talking about a small office or stock room. Looking around the spacious area, he wondered where they had found the room. There was a large area of mats, and even a wooden dummy at one end of the room. The three young people had escorted him and his daughter into the room, apologising for the lack of chairs. Shrugging, Gwen had slid to a seated position against a side wall. The others had seated themselves in a loose grouping in front of her, while he remained leaning against another wall, close to the door. The younger man, Xander, had angled himself so that he could see both of them without too much effort – quite a trick given he only had the one eye. The brunette was in the middle of the three, and the only one with her back truly to him. The redhead, while focussed on his daughter, could turn to look at him without much effort. He wasn't sure, at this point, if he should be amused or offended at being so easily dismissed.

Gwen looked at her father over Faith's head. He was looking decidedly unimpressed, probably because the others were all but ignoring him at the moment, which was a mistake. They'd figure it out once she started talking, but, for now, they remained in blissful ignorance. "So where do you want me to start."

"Your full name," Faith decided.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "My mother is from a Welsh family," she explained, "and really wanted to use the name Gwenhwyfar. I was going to be her last chance, so here I am. To be exact, Gwenhwyfar Bridie Dillon. Dad wanted a family name in there somewhere, so … Hi, I'm Bridie."

Faith grinned. "I see why you go by Gwen."

"Yeah. Uh, I'm twenty years old, and … have been 'strong' since the twenty-fourth of May, 2003."

"Why do you put it that way?" Willow asked.

Gwen shrugged. "That night, morning, whatever, I remember hearing a woman's voice saying, 'Do you want to be strong?' After that, there were a series of dreams. Girls, fighting, dying. You were there," she added, turning to Xander.

"I was?" he asked, surprised.

She paused, debating, then simply said, "Yeah." Turning back to Faith, she went on, "That morning, I was really tired, and, well, I blame it on that damned homicidal cat. I had a cup of coffee, and it decided to try and trip me up. Got right in front of my feet. I thought I had just splashed some really hot coffee onto my hand, and dropped the cup onto the wonderfully forgiving tile floor." She scoffed at her own sarcasm. "But Dad saw it, and he said that I had crushed the mug. He insisted that that was what had happened, and wanted to prove it. So he spread out a newspaper, got the ugliest mug in the cupboard, and told me to crush it in my hand. Which I did. And promptly cut my hand to shreds. Did I ever thank you for that, Dad?"

"Yes. Fluently. I counted three languages, but there may have been more."

"So once dear old Dad had taped up my hand, he took me out to the shed, where he had set up his gym. He set up a dumbbell for me to lift with my good hand. I think I got up to eighty kilos, one handed?" She looked to her father for confirmation, and he nodded.

Xander and Faith looked to Willow. "Oh, um, about one hundred and eighty pounds," she translated.

"Not bad," Faith commented.

"Dad was impressed. Well, he was at a loose end, since he had retired the year before, and I was on my gap year, so he decided to train me. I should add at this point that Dad was in the Australian SAS, and then did something that I have never asked about, but must have been pretty damn interesting. Between my training over the last year and a half, and the documents I have in my luggage, I think that's the least I can say about Dad's career."

"Training?" Xander asked.

"Some kind of modified SAS training. I didn't learn much at all in the way of leadership or group dynamics, or rather, only a bit of theory. I was almost always the only student. But I learned a great deal from a good many people. I did training exercises here in America, as well as in Europe. Between my language skills and the training I received, I can pass almost anywhere in Europe and the Americas. I may not pass as local, but I can pass as reasonably invisible – there's a lot more travel in Europe, and I am fluent in several modern languages. I can also fake a number of English accents. I spent time in both New Orleans and Miami this year, perfecting my accents."

"What else?"

Gwen snorted. "Can I just say, that though my parents were married, my father's definitely weren't."

All three Scoobies turned to see the older man laugh hard at his daughter's comments. "You may have hated that, but you now have a lot more self control than if I'd let you just go."

"What did he do?" Willow asked, wide eyed.

"He entered my in triathlons."

"Not seeing the bad, so far," Faith countered. Slayer speed, strength and stamina would make something like that, if not a walk in the park, certainly a lot easier than it would be for a normal.

"He would dictate a place, and I would have to maintain that place for the majority of the race."

"Ooh, nasty," Xander commented with a grin. "I like how your mind works, Michael. We may just have to introduce that to the curriculum."

"Xander Harris," Faith gasped. "You utter bastard."

"According to my Dad, at least," he agreed, cheerfully. Then his smile fell. "So what about Paris?"

Gwen met his eyes for a long moment, then dropped her gaze. "Graduation exam. I was dropped in Athens, and had thirty days to get to Paris. I was given a set amount of funds, and restrictions on my travel. It was do-able, but only if I kept going. No room for slip ups," she added. "Things were going good, until ..."

"Brescia," Faith supplied.

"Yeah. How did you figure that out?"

"Slayer dream. Saw what you did. Very good, by the way. Xan here was very impressed by what you did. Even more so, when we figured you were a slayer we'd never managed to get to."

She shrugged. "I saw a couple of men dragging a woman into a warehouse. I'd been trained to gather intel before doing anything, so I found a vantage spot." She paused, thinking about what she had seen. "There were these four … beings," she went on quietly. "They were … feeding on her, from major vessels. If she wasn't dead by the time I got there, she was dead within minutes of it. I knew I couldn't do anything for her, and – honestly? – didn't like my chances for rushing in, tired and uninformed as I was. So I got up bright and early the next morning, made some Molotov cocktails, and cleared them out. I was already pretty sure of what they were, but seeing them light up like that? Humans don't do that. Not like that."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "The dreams. I really had wanted the dreams to be, I don't know, metaphorical. Fighting 'demons', things that inhabit the darkness. Not honest-to- … huh, can't really say 'God' there, can I? But they're real. And that's what we were made to fight, isn't it," she asked Faith, softly.

"Yep. That's us."

"So is it supposed to be fun? The fighting, the killing? Or am I just a psychopath?"

"No. Fighting demons is what we were made for. We have a bloodlust that will never go away, not really. But killing humans, well that can just about destroy us. And killing non-violent, peaceful demons, that's dishonourable. We don't do that. You don't do that either, we know."

"What's the sense in that?" she asked, mildly disgusted.

"There is none. But some people are like that."

Gwen looked up at her father, who shrugged. "Not surprised," he commented. "We treat each other badly enough. How much worse will some people treat beings who aren't even the same species? Especially if they're weak."

"You want a job?" Xander asked.

"What?"

"Of course, we have to see just how well you've trained Gwen, but so far so good. We can arrange accommodation, and all that. You wouldn't even need to worry about a Green Card. We have ways to deal with that."

Michael stared at Xander for a moment before answering weakly, "I'd need to talk to my wife and family."

"You do that," Xander agreed before turning back to Gwen.

"About Paris."

Gwen glanced at the others before looking back to Xander. "Can we talk about that later?" she asked softly.

"Sure. Now," he went on, clapping his hands as he stood, "testing time. Think you're up to it?"

Gwen looked at Faith, and smiled. "Sure."

* * *

Faith and Gwen had kicked off their shoes and moved to the middle of the mats. Xander looked at them before speaking. "Okay, whenever you two independent-and-fully-capable-women are ready, you may start."

"'Independent-and-fully-capable-women'?" Michael asked quietly.

"When you are one of a handful of men in a school of super-powered women, you get very diplomatic, very quickly."

"Ah."

After considering her opponent and her options for a moment, Gwen sprang at Faith. She nearly got her hand to Faith's chest, when the other woman caught her wrist and flipped her to the side. Gwen slammed into the mats, and immediately rolled to her feet. By that time, though, Faith was in front of her, swinging her leg in a low roundhouse kick. Spotting it, Gwen stepped in, and blocked, shin against thigh, while thrusting out, heel of her hand striking against Faith's deltoid muscle.

Faith stepped back, and grinned. "You're on," she growled. From that point, the fight moved too quickly for the others to see the finer details, but entailed Gwen being tossed to the mat slightly more often than Faith. But each time either woman were sent to the floor, the jumped right back into the fight, seemingly eager for the fight.

After ten minutes, Xander called a halt. Then he bellowed a halt. Finally, he signalled to Willow, who waved them apart, sending them to opposite sides of the mats. Faith looked at them, an unrepentant grin on her face, while Gwen was looking a bit sheepish.

"How are you feeling?" Xander asked.

"Five by five, boytoy," Faith assured.

"I'm fine," Gwen smiled. "On a bit of an adrenaline high, actually. I'll probably feel something in a hour or so, but I'm good for now."

"Yep," Faith agreed, "adrenaline is good stuff. Keeps you going, helps you ignore the little shit."

"That it does," Michael agreed. "It can keep you alive in the battle zone."

"We should go back to the school, now," Willow suggested. "We need to check Gwen out more thoroughly, meet some other slayers, stuff like that."

* * *

"Welcome to the Sineya School for the Gifted, and Sineya Academy for Antiquities and The Occult," Xander announced as the walked through the foyer. "We currently have eighteen school students, and a further nineteen at the academy. All our students are live-in, as well as the five IGC teams we have stationed here. We currently have a total of one hundred and forty-eight activated slayers worldwide, though about eighty of those are considered underage, and therefore effectively inactive. We still let them out to hunt, but under strict conditions, and with experienced slayers and support personnel."

"Hunt? What do you mean by that?"

"Like I said before, Mick," Faith explained, "the bloodlust never goes away. We've got ten-year-old kiddies that really do need to hunt. The Slayer inside each of us is really primal. She needs to hunt, to kill the bad things."

"And then She needs to feast on high quality ice cream," Willow chirped.

"Got that right," Faith grinned.

"So who or what is Sineya?" Michael asked.

"The First Slayer," Xander responded. "Damn scary, and doesn't speak, but apparently that's her name."

"Sounds like you've met her."

"In a dream. Or was it a vision?" Xander asked, looking to Willow.

"Manipulated dream, I think."

"Slayer dream," Faith added.

"Yeah, but yours was different. We saw her after ADAM."

"Oh, yeah. Wasn't really around for that."

Gwen cocked her head. "Dark skin, painted, dreadlocks?"

"Yeah. That's her. When did you see her."

"A couple of dreams. I saw her tied to the earth, and later, failing under horde of demons."

"Her beginning and her end," Willow mourned. "Oh, Giles will want to talk to you. There haven't been many who have seen that."

Xander patted her shoulder. "Sorry."

"What for," she asked slowly.

"Getting you fed to Giles."

Willow slapped Xander for that, but his grin was unrepentant. "So, moving on. What do you expect to do here, or get out of being here?"

"I expect to be used for what I am. I expect to gain a sense of belonging, in at least some way. To be one of them."

Faith nodded. "You'll have to make your way. The Sunnydale Slayers, at least, won't let you in easily. The noobs will probably at least accept you as equal. You may have to win a lot of fights before some people will accept you. Kennedy," she went on, glancing at Willow, "will probably be one of the last to accept you. If she ever does."

Willow sighed. "She was at Sunnydale, and she has a very strong sense of entitlement. She's a very good slayer, don't get me wrong, but..."

"She thinks she's queen of the pack?"

"Oh, yeah," Faith confirmed. "She accepts B and me as above her, because we were the last of the Chosen, and we have the experience and ability to put her down any damn time we want to, but she'll definitely try to butt heads with you." Faith smiled in thought. "I'd really like to see that. Try to make sure I'm there?"

"Bad feelings?"

Willow grimaced. "She's made a lot of … well, not enemies, but certainly no friends, with her attitude. Actually," she blushed, "we were lovers for a few months. That didn't, um, help."

"You're a powerful witch, aren't you?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

Gwen waved the question off. "You're also powerful, politically, within this group, aren't you?"

Xander looked at her for a moment. "Buffy, Willow, Giles and I were the original four from Sunnyhell. Faith came along a couple of years later, and Dawn kind of after that.. We took out the Hellmouth, what, three-four years after that? And now we control the Council – we're the Board. So, yes, we have the power in the Council."

Gwen nodded. "And it was obvious when she arrived when the power was?"

"Hell, yeah," Faith replied. "It was B's and Little D's house, and Glinda was living there, too. They were the Scoobies. The others came in as Potentials."

Gwen shrugged. "So she's politically astute. Doesn't make her my alpha, and she'll find that out if she tries anything."

Faith grinned. "I like her. Can we keep her?"

"She's a slayer, Faith. We kind of have to," Willow reassured the brunette.

"Cool."

"So what happens know," Michael asked.

"Gwen gets tested. A little more thoroughly than back at the 'The Magic Box', though. She'll go against several different slayers, and another slayer will watch, since they can see the movements better than we mere mortals. There will also be a test of her academic abilities – the watchers still do the majority of the study, but the slayers are expected to do some basic stuff, like look for key words in popular languages. Then we'll discuss where to put her. Gwen will be in on the discussion, since she's an adult, but it will be restricted to where we have room and/or need. So. How's that sound?"

"Pretty intelligent, actually. It seems like you've got a good thing going on here."

"We try. We're getting better all the time. In the eighteen months since Sunnydale fell, we've been working out butts off rebuilding the Council to fit the new, what was it, Willow?"

"Paradigm. Philosophical framework," Willow explained. "Where the previous incarnation of the Council looked on the Slayer, singular, as their property, a tool to be used in the war against darkness, the new Council looks on the slayers, many, as an integral part of the work, equal to the watchers that care for them. Slayers now have rights and a voice in Council, and in their own life. Potentials are still identified, but are no longer routinely removed from their families. Which reminds me," she added, frowning. "We're going to have to check you out to find out what's hiding you. Even right beside me, I can barely sense you, and I can sense all the slayers. That's how we managed to find so many of them so quickly."

"Where were you living?" Xander asked.

"Brisbane, Australia."

He shook his head. "I went through there, I think four months after Sunnydale. And again, about six months later. Faith went through another six months after that."

"I was there both times you went through, then, but not the third time."

"Where were you?"

"Miami, perfecting my accent."

"Some people have all the luck," Faith grumbled.

"So here we are," Xander declared, opening the double doors, "at the main gym. We have others, but this is where most of the stuff goes on. I think we shall ask Connie, Anne, and Kennedy to test you, and Faith can monitor the fights. Um, someone else, to make sure no one can say anything about favouritism?" he asked his friends.

"Shay's good. She has no reason to love me, especially, and doesn't hate Ken."

"Shay it is." With that, he called over one of the nearest girls, and asked her to fetch the missing woman. "Everyone else is here, so lets set this up."

Within a quarter hour, all four fighters were ready, and the missing moderator had arrived at the gym. Xander explained to the women what was going to happen, and briefly reviewed each woman's slayer history and skill level.

Michael sat back to watch the fights. Given what he'd seen at the shop, he didn't really think he could refer to them as sparring matches. The women had been brutal, neither appearing to pull punches, and both seeming to enjoy themselves thoroughly. His daughter's first opponent, Anne, was eighteen years old, and considered an experienced slayer. He compared this fight with the one with Faith: it seemed slower, somehow, and Gwen was putting the girl down a lot more often than she had managed with Faith. Soon enough, the bout was over, and the girls allowed to rest for a few minutes. Gwen's next opponent, Connie, was just turned nineteen, and had not only been active for longer than Anne, but had apparently been in some more important battles, giving her an edge over the first girl. Still, the fight wasn't much more than the first one with Anne. He thought that the second girl had managed to throw Gwen to the floor once more than Anne had, but that was about it. Another rest, and it was Kennedy's turn.

Kennedy was the same age as his daughter, and had been activated at the same time. But while Gwen had been in training, Kennedy had fought in 'The Battle of Sunnydale' as it seemed to be called, and was considered one of the best of the activated slayers. He needed to clarify the difference between activated and chosen, but it almost seemed like there was a significant difference in the two types. He watched the other woman walk out onto the mat. She certainly had a goodly amount of confidence, he decided. Well, she had been at the first battle involving her kind, and had been the lover of one of the most important people in their world. That kind of thing certainly translated to power for many people. The thing that worried him was that this woman was fresh, while his daughter had already fought two ten minute bouts with two other women. Both had gotten good hits in, even if they had been outclassed.

Xander leaned towards him. "Don't forget the panacea that is adrenaline. She won't be feeling it yet, and probably not for another while yet."

"She's already fought Faith, and that was not an easy bout. Now she has this?"

"If she can toss Kennedy on her butt, then she will have proved that she is an A-grade slayer. When she starts sparring publicly with Faith, I think she'll confirm her position as one of our best. And I stand by my job offer, by the way."

"Would I have to live here?"

"Not necessarily. We're considering a new campus on the Sunshine Coast hinterland. Somewhere nice and private, but accessible to the highways."

Michael smiled. "It's a nice place. Quiet, too."

Gwen walked out to the centre of the mat to meet her opponent. Kennedy stood with hands on hips, and they had a few quiet words. Then, at the signal, they began. Kennedy started, with a strong right to Gwen's face. Or it would have been, except that Gwen dodged outside the punch, put her hands on the other girl's arm, and drew her in for a knee strike to the belly. Sliding her right hand along Kennedy's shoulder to the back of her neck, she slid her thumb and forefinger up into the tender spot behind the corners of her jaw. Pressing in and up, she directed the her opponent backwards, throwing Kennedy away from herself.

Kennedy was up and scowling by the time Gwen reached her, and stepped forward with a low front kick to her knees. Again, Gwen dodged to the outside, this time swinging her right hand down in a hammerfist to the outside of the thigh, while slamming her open left hand against Kennedy's right shoulder. The combined blows off-balanced the other woman, and sent her stumbling to her left. Kennedy immediately flew back in to continue the fight.

As Michael watched, he realised that Kennedy was, indeed, better than the other two, but not as good as Faith. This fight wasn't going anywhere near as fast that the first fight, but it was still quicker than Anne's and Connie's fights. That said, the training he'd urged on his daughter, both since her activation and during her childhood, was certainly showing. She had good balance, and was using effective combinations, making two simultaneous strikes to break her opponent's balance and weaken her. He winced as Gwen sent Kennedy crashing to the floor. That shouldn't have happened. The other girl very much needed to work on her balance. Maybe teaching these girls wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Finally, it was over, Gwen stepping away from Kennedy's supine body. The other woman rose slowly, scowling at the newcomer. She looked over at Faith's huge grin and swore briefly, before storming out of the gym.

"Bad loser?" Michael enquired.

"Faith wasn't exactly helping, but yeah. Gwen may have to reinforce pecking order from time to time, but it looks like she's come out on top."

"You people seriously do pecking order?"

Xander shrugged. "Like Faith said: the Slayer in these girls if very primal. There's a lot of pack behaviour in these girls, quite aside from the fact that they tend to be adolescent and young adult females. Very scary, even without the super-strength," he added with a wry grin. "The training you put Gwen through may just make her of the upper alphas. Personality too, of course. She doesn't look like she'll take much shit from Ken."

"No. She'll ignore a lot of behaviour, but I really can't see her putting up with bullying. She never did so in school."

"Good. Now there's only a couple more people to meet."


	5. Finding a Place

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to BtVS, or any movies referred to in passing.

* * *

Xander entered the large rumpus room and looked around. Over to one side, he noticed Gwen sitting with the team she'd been slotted into. It was odd to see her interacting with her group. Though she was sitting with them, there was a clear distance between her and the rest of the group. As he watched for several minutes, he observed each girl speak, except for Gwen. Instead, she simply watched the conversation go on around her. When one of the girls finally asked her something, she appeared to give a brief answer, and let the conversation flow on without her.

He'd asked Kyle, one of the team's watchers, about her, and he had agreed that she had fit in quite well with the physical side of the team, but hadn't appeared to form any clear friendships in the group. In fact, apart from himself and the various Scoobies, she didn't appear to have formed any strong friendships at all in the school. The only noticeable relationship she had formed had been quite a negative one with Kennedy. Since the first fight, they'd had several more, with Gwen coming out on top more often then not. Kennedy was not someone who took being outshone very well, and so a vicious verbal war had sprung up between them.

At first, Gwen had been content to just let Kennedy's words slide off her, but she had started to give back as good as she got. When Kennedy said that she must have used mystical means to best her, Gwen replied that the other girl could possibly be just as good with the same training, and a lot of diligence. Of course, she added, Kennedy's lovely personality was probably the main thing holding her back... He'd heard that fight two floors away. The only saving grace was that it had been on the Academy side of the campus, and away from where the younger girls could enhance their vocabulary skills.

Kennedy had tried out some dirty tricks during sparring. Gwen had thoroughly approved the use of dirty tricks in fighting, but snarked back that they only worked when done properly, and had gone on to demonstrate. Kennedy had spread skilful rumours. Gwen had shrugged – Kennedy didn't know her weak points. Kennedy had tried to win people over to her side, but her previous actions worked against her. Gwen might not have made friends, but Kennedy had made enemies. Someone had broken into Gwen's room and stolen a ring. Gwen stalked up to Kennedy in rec room, put a knife to her neck, and told her that the ring was a present from her parents, and would be returned to her room by bedtime. And it was. No more jewellery was stolen.

Practical tricks had been factored into the war, also. At breakfast one morning, Kennedy had managed to sneak a cockroach in, and shoved it down the back of Gwen's shirt. Xander had heard a piercing scream from down the hall, and raced into the room, to see Gwen, shirtless and frantically rubbing herself down. Finally, she spotted the insect, and stomped on it. Then she turned to Kennedy, who was howling with laughter.

"What the fuck was that, bitch?" Gwen screamed at Kennedy.

"Damn hilarious, that's what it was. You screamed like a girl."

"Newsflash, princess, I am a girl."

Kennedy looked pointedly at Gwen lace-covered chest. "I'm looking, but I just don't see it."

Gwen snorted as she quickly dressed. "Not everyone confines their talents to their chest, sweetheart."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Xander ran his fingers through his hair and told himself it was a good thing Gwen was now properly dressed. He wasn't the only appreciative person in the room, and not all of them were of an appropriate age.

* * *

Buffy's meeting with the newest slayer had gone okay. Not as well as the other Scoobies, but it hadn't resulted in any furniture destruction, or even so much as raised voices. Buffy had looked Gwen over while the other woman stood as if at parade rest. That had been the first point against Gwen. Then there were the details of her training. After Buffy's run-in with the Initiative, she had retained a thorough dislike of military methods, and Gwen's training had incorporated a lot of military discipline. They had had a civil disagreement about the usefulness of such discipline, with neither conceding defeat, the matter being dropped by Buffy as inconsequential. Gwen's covert ops skills were regarded as irrelevant in the fight against the supernatural. Gwen gritted her teeth, and tried not to roll her eyes.

Later, Xander had drawn Gwen into the Scoobies' social time. Gwen found that she could talk with all of the group except Buffy. For all that she respected the older woman's past record and current position, she just didn't have the knowledge or inclination to discuss the latest fashions or celebrities. Or the latest dance bands. In fact, outside the mechanics of their Calling, she couldn't find any common topics with which to talk to the Head Slayer, and it had come to require too much energy to deal with except as a superior officer. Buffy had picked up on that, and, again, wasn't pleased. After Gwen had absently referred to her as 'Ma'am' for the third time, Buffy had issued an ultimatum, and Gwen had replaced 'Ma'am' with Buffy in her vocabulary. They could live in the same space, but Xander realised they would never truly be friends.

* * *

Xander watched as Kennedy walked into the rec room, dvds in hand. Movie night tonight, and with that smirk on her face, he suspected they were facing a night of lesbian soft porn with some kind of story. Supposedly. Wouldn't be the first time. At least it was only the older slayers and watchers in this group – everyone would be old enough to watch something like that.

Without a word, she slipped the first disk into the player, and sat back. Xander looked across to Faith, sitting beside him on the small couch, and Gwen, sitting on the floor between them, and shrugged. It wasn't like either would be seriously offended by anything the other woman wanted to watch, while Buffy, Willow and Dawn were watching some chick flick with some of the other slayers, so wouldn't care.

It wasn't until the movie started that he realised that it was a horror movie, instead, and found himself relaxing a little more. Horror movies could be fun, with the shouting at the silly co-eds running into danger. What he didn't anticipate was Gwen getting up and leaving the room. Glancing at Faith in confusion, he quickly followed Gwen out the door. When he found her, she was pacing in the hall, twisting her hands together nervously.

"Hey, Gwen, what's the problem? I thought you liked horror movies."

She looked up at him, and he noticed she was pale, and was gritting her teeth. "Horror movies I can deal with. I saw Se7en, and was pissed with the ending. Such an idiot," she added, frowning. "But that wasn't a horror movie. That was a horror movie about spiders," she explained, shuddering. "I don't like spiders."

He smiled slightly as he put his arms around her. "The big, bad, Aussie slayer is afraid of spiders?"

She shuddered again, and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "No. I just don't like them. I avoided this movie at the cinemas for a reason." After a moment, she went on. "We have these spiders back home. They would have to be _the_ most inoffensive spiders known to man. They have these tiny bodies, and their legs are about a hair thick, and I'm not even sure they have teeth. When I was ten, Dad had to kill one so I could have a shower. So much for the army brat, huh." She pulled away, calmer. "But I can kill them now."

"Spiders?"

"Daddy long legs, anyway. Anything hairy, and I very calmly, and without any panic, walk the other way," she grimaced. She looked past Xander, and smiled to Faith.

"So I'm thinking private showing in X's room," Faith suggested, grinning.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "A bit clearer, if you don't mind."

The brunette chuckled. "Your room, flat screen, action movies. Maybe some popcorn."

Relaxing, he grinned. Slinging an arm around each woman, he led the way. "That I can do. So, ladies, any suggestions?"

"Nothing spider related. Unless it's Spiderman," Gwen suggested.

"Ooh, yummy!" Faith agreed.

* * *

Faith frowned as she watched the lithe blonde chatting with another slayer. If it had been anyone else, she suspected she would have been very amused by the scene. But this was Gwen, who had quickly become one of her favourite people. Willing and able to stand up Kennedy, and a damn fine slayer, it was odd to see her so stiff. Finally, the other girl nodded, and walked off, and Faith took the opportunity to talk to her.

"So, what? Do you have some kind of mental 'small talk' list? 'Cause it didn't look like you were enjoying that at all."

Gwen sighed. "Actually, yeah. I do kind of have a list. I'm really not good with the casual chatting thing. You know, with people not actually friends, and that I know what to talk about with. Like you. I'm an introvert, so that makes it difficult."

"The hell you are. You're not at all shy. You certainly weren't shy about showing off the goods in the dining hall," she added, grinning.

"Introvert. Not shy," Gwen explained, rolling her eyes. "And that wasn't actually planned, you know."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. Introverts just... Okay. It's like, you see an extrovert walk into a party with no one they know, and they just start talking, interacting, making connections. It's almost like they start to glow with all the people they're dealing with. Now, if it's me... I can't do that. I walk into a room of people I don't know well, then I just want to, I don't know, slide through the whole thing." She gritted her teeth. "It feels like every time I have to make idle chitchat with someone, a little piece of me is chipped away, and I need time away to repair it." She sighed. "If I had to go into a party like that and just keep talking to people, by the end of the night it would feel like there was nothing of me left."

"So how is that different to being shy?"

"Because I don't really care what others think. I won't modify my behaviour just because I think people are staring at me, or I think they think I'm unfashionable, or whatever. I can hide myself away in the middle of a dance floor, ignoring everyone else. I wear clothes that are comfortable for fighting, not because they look cute. When I dress up, I have no problem with the fact that I prefer punk/goth/lola fashions while everyone else I'm with is in the usual spring fashions, or whatever. I listen to music that I like, not what's popular. I have no problem with public speaking because it's not the same. I'm not being chipped away. I am fine if it's a matter of sharing information, bossing people around, whatever. I'm not shy, it's just... I've been told it's an energy thing. Extroverts gain energy from contact with others, while introverts lose energy that way. Is that in any way clear?"

"I think so. So what's the deal with Xan, then? You hooked up with him straight away."

Gwen shrugged. "Don't know. He was there, and it was just incredibly easy to talk to him. And once I had that connection to him, he brought me to the rest of you. I've made friends with extroverts before, and been drawn into groups that way, so that didn't surprise me. Talking to Xander, though? Definitely."

"And B?"

"If we had anything in common, it would be easier. Unfortunately, I prefer raiding parties to shopping for shoes," she added, rolling her eyes.

* * *

Dawn had dragged Gwen up to the Scooby Hangout, AKA the top floor lounge room, to discuss college admissions. Gwen had been unwilling to choose a school, let alone a course, and Dawn had decided she needed Willow, Buffy and Giles to add their arguments to hers on the topic of Higher Education. Faith and Xander were there for the entertainment value.

"But you have such a smart brain, sweetie," Willow cajoled. "You could get through any of these courses easily."

"You're all assuming that I actually want a degree."

"You said you wanted a degree when we met you," Dawn argued.

"I also said my name was Gloria Ortiz. Your point?"

"It would be a waste of potential to not do this?" Buffy countered.

"No, it would be a waste of potential to not learn and do. Getting a degree has nothing to do with that."

"I disagree with that," Giles argued. "A degree offers a level of respectability. The mere adding of a doctorate to your name ensures that people listen to you where they otherwise would not."

"And? I'm not looking to publish papers here. I'll help you out, no problems, so long as I also get to kill things."

"So, what?" Buffy asked. "You're just lazy?"

"Uninspired? Distracted? Maybe a little lazy. I like the researching, but the writing up gets tedious."

"My God, it's another Xander," Buffy complained with a slight smile.

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Xander objected.

"Which is good," Gwen smirked. "That means you resemble someone amazing: ie, me!"

"Hey!" Xander growled, grinning. "Don't make me punish you," he warned.

"You couldn't," she grinned.

Xander waggled his fingers as turned to where she was sitting on the floor.

Gwen's grin fled, and she grew concerned. "You wouldn't."

"I know all your tickle spots, girlie," he growled as he pounced, pushing the blonde to the floor before attacking. After a few minutes, he had reduced the newest slayer to a squealing mess while his friends looked on, giggling.

"Bastard," she muttered when he had finished.

"And you love me for it," he countered as he leaned over her.

Suddenly the world seemed to fade out as he looked at the woman lying beneath him. Xander found himself lost in his reverie until he heard Buffy's sudden exclamation, "Oh, for the love of God, kiss her!"

He looked up to see everyone watching them and giggling. He blushed, and looked back to Gwen, who was also blushing. When she went to sit up, though, he pushed her back down. Stroking her hair, he murmured, "Is that such a bad idea?"

After a moment, she smiled slightly. "No," she admitted breathlessly.

"That's what I thought." Then, to the accompaniment of his friends' catcalls, he leaned down and kissed her.

* * *

"So when are you two making this official," Buffy asked her best male friend. "It's been months now."

Xander frowned. "You don't have a problem with it?"

She shrugged. "She's okay. Not my favourite person, but way better than Kennedy. I thought she would have relaxed a little, what with sharing a bed with you, but, no, she still acts like I'm her commanding officer of something."

"That would be because you are," he replied.

"This is not the army. We are slayers, not mindless drones."

"You've met Mick, haven't you? Her dad? Since when is he a mindless drone?"

"He's retired."

"And she's never served. She just has some discipline, is all. And she's probably never going to truly relax around you, because you are her leader. You say jump, she says how high? Always and forever, unless you stuff up so horrendously that someone else has to step up and take over. Even if you step down, she'll probably still act like that, and only disobey you if your successor directly countermands it. Or you try to order her to do something stupid. Because she's not a mindless drone," he finished.

Buffy considered that for a while, then shrugged. "So. Honest-woman-making? When's it happening?"

"Um... Soon?"

"Better be. That's my slayer you're playing with there."

Xander smiled. "Got it, Buffy."

* * *

It was Faith's suggestion to pull Gwen out of the slayer team she'd been assigned to. She had been excess to requirements, as Faith had put it, and her impending marriage to a Scooby put her in a difficult position in the group. What Faith had suggested was to make Xander and Gwen a watcher/slayer team, directly under the Council's security branch, the IGC. When the Council had reformed under the Scoobies' command, they had created three branches: the educational side, with the Schools for the Gifted; the research side, with the Academies for Antiquities and The Occult, and the Summers Kalderash Institute for Antiquities; and the security side, called the International Guardians Council, with the slayer/watcher/witch teams.

Most of the slayers were assigned to teams of five slayers, two watchers and two witches, but occasionally teams were made up of an individual slayer with a watcher, and sometimes a witch. Faith was in the primary team, while Kennedy, being unable to fit into a normal team, also had her own watcher, one of the old Council survivors. Certain people considered this mutual punishment, and neither was allowed to reassign, but required to co-operate. Faith felt, and Dawn, Willow and Giles agreed, that it would be better that Gwen not be subject to any pressure to use her position as spouse to a Scooby to gain favours for her team. Not that anyone suggested it might really happen, but just in case. And so it was arranged that, on their marriage, Gwen and Xander were reassigned to the newly formed IGC Team Gamma, on roving assignment, but available for apocalypses.

Xander wandered out onto the balcony, and slipped his arms around Gwen's waist. "Getting a bit much?" he murmured.

"Just a bit," she confessed. "I would have to marry an important man and have to invite half the universe to my reception, wouldn't I?"

Xander grinned, and instead of a response, bit into the side of her neck. His wife (gleeful thought that was) had a very sensitive neck, he had discovered, and he could distract her from just about anything by kissing or biting her there. He was pleased to hear her moan softly and sag back into him.

"Don't think you'll always get away that, husband mine."

"Near enough to always, wife mine," he murmured. "Come on, time to back inside."

"But now I've got a bite mark on me," she pouted.

"That's just so everyone knows you're mine."

She looked at him. "It's our wedding reception. I think they get the point."

"Just wanting to make sure."

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked back inside. She was home.


End file.
